


to worship a falling angel

by androgynousmikewheeler



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Episode: s02e05 Aftermath, F/M, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vaginal Fingering, sorry about the trauma elle get better coping mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 04:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30133887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgynousmikewheeler/pseuds/androgynousmikewheeler
Summary: After being shot, Elle isn't doing too well. Reid will do anything to help her, even if it might be a bad idea for both of them.
Relationships: Elle Greenaway/Spencer Reid
Kudos: 15





	to worship a falling angel

_Crack._

The pencil snaps between Elle's teeth, startling her out of her reverie. She grimaces, spitting the shards of wood out of her mouth and wiggling her jaw to try to release the tension.

Reid looks up from the papers before him, his mind clearly more concerned with her than their case. Part of her resents him for it. The other is too apathetic to mind. "You okay?" he asks.

She scoffs, shoving from her mind the monotonous ticking of the clock, the aching of her bullet wound, the crowding memories of a hand reaching into her open flesh. "Peachy fucking keen."

She looks down at the case files spread across her hotel room table and growls. She's not getting anything else done tonight, especially not after an overly concerned Reid invited himself in. She slams her fist on the table and pushes herself up.

Reid gapes as she shoves it all onto the tacky carpeting, papers flying and flipping through the air.

She stalks across the room and rifles through the hotel mini fridge, sorting through the bottles for anything halfway drinkable. She settles for the whole cupboard, carrying the array of tiny overpriced flasks to the table.

"Elle?" Reid whispers, eyes wide. "What's going on?"

"I'm getting drunk. Grab a bottle or get out."

Reid hesitates. She repeats herself. He reaches out, watching her for any sign of attack, and takes a travel bottle of cognac. She grabs the gin and twists it open, taking a long swig.

"You're upset," he states, "How can I help?" The sincerity in those puppy dog eyes makes the sick, angry part of her want to slap him.

"You can't," she mutters into the bottleneck.

He sighs, tries again, voice desperate. "Elle, what do you need?"

"I don't know, Reid," she snaps, "The shit we deal with is disgusting and it makes me fucking furious. And the fact is, there's nothing any of us can actually do. We just wait for another girl to get raped or tortured or murdered and say, 'Looks like this guy hates women.' No fucking shit. Don't they all." She shakes her head and takes another deep swig from the bottle, cheap alcohol biting at her throat. "Maybe I just need a good fuck."

Reid exhales, sipping from his own bottle. "If that's what you need."

"If that's what I need?" She glares at him. "Precisely where do you suppose I'm gonna find someone to fuck tonight? Maybe I should ask our UnSub if he wants a date?"

Reid's forehead wrinkles, the way it does when he explains something he thinks should be obvious. "Here," he points down at himself, "me."

She gapes at him. "What? You want me to fuck _you_?"

He prickles, pulling back. "Okay, you don't have to say it with quite that level of incredulity."

"Reid, I'm not gonna take your virginity because I'm horny and pissed off."

Reid looks even more offended at this. "Why does everyone assume I'm a virgin? I'm not a virgin."

Elle hums. _Unexpected. But interesting_. "So, what? We fuck, we work out some aggression, we go back to work, and we don't talk about it?"

"If you want."

She scans him, his bird bone wrists, his lanky legs, the flat plane of his chest, the pale column of his neck.

"And what if I'm not looking to get you off?" she asks, abdomen heating, "What if all I care about is me?"

Reid's face flushes, fighting his impulse to break her eye contact, but he doesn't. He gulps. "I'm fine with that."

She stands, rounds the table, and straddles him, thighs grinding into his lap. "Then shut up," she murmurs, and she kisses him.

His lips fall open with record speed, her tongue snaking into his mouth, his moans vibrating against her teeth. Her arm wraps around the back of his neck, the other hand pawing at the stupid buttons of his shirt.

She pulls back for just a moment and growls, "Get it off. Now."

His hips buck up against her as he yanks the offending garment over his head. She smiles, the sharp grin of a predator soon to be fed.

She grabs him, digging her nails into his back, teeth scratching at the gentle give of his chest.

She takes one of his nipples in her mouth, swirling it once with her tongue before pulling at it with her teeth. He cries out, a pained pleasure that leaves her grateful that the rest of the team is two floors away.

She pulls off her own shirt and unhooks her bra, casting both aside in one fell swoop. She nestles her knuckles in Spencer's scalp and yanks his head down to her heaving chest.

He lavishes her skin with kisses, tasting her sweat with his characteristic eagerness. His thumb brushes the scar of a bullet, still uncomfortably fresh, hand cupping her ribs.

Her fingers tug at his hair, dragging his lips towards one hardening nipple, grinding down against him as he sucks at her flesh.

As the seat of her underwear dampens, she pushes his head back, moving her grip to his belt and standing, pulling him up and then shoving him onto the bed.

Spencer looks up at her, pupils swollen with arousal, pants wet. He licks his bottom lip, already reddening, and she aches with hunger.

She shimmies out of her pants, in too much of a hurry to give him a show, and shucks her underwear to the ground.

She climbs on top of him, naked skin feverish, and grabs the hand holding him upright, watching him fall backwards with a wicked glee.

She presses his fingers against her dripping heat and whispers, "I presume you get the gist, genius."

He nods, his cold index finger slipping between her folds and inside of her. She bucks against him, digging her teeth into his collarbone. He whimpers but says nothing, his finger bending and straightening against her inner walls, the heel of his palm brushing against her clitoris.

"More," she moans into his bruising skin, "harder, damn it!"

He presses in another finger, and at her urging, a third. She grinds against them, cold against her burning heat, the gentle stretch of his scissoring giving her jitters.

She sneaks her own fingers under his palm, rubbing against her clit with a frantic energy, core muscles tightening around him as she nurses herself to orgasm, thoughts finally fading to pleasure.

She grunts as she blinks back to reality and rolls off of him, melting into the coarse hotel sheets.

He props himself up on an elbow, watching her catch her breath with an infuriatingly soft smile.

She spreads her thighs and gestures between them. "Stop gawking and get back to it, fuckface."

He assesses the situation for a moment, thoughtful as ever, before grabbing a pillow and dropping it onto the floor. He clambers off the bed and kneels beside it, knees on the pillow, facing Elle's spread legs.

"Could you, um..." he scratches the back of his neck, "could you scoot a little closer, please?"

Elle rolls her eyes but complies, hooking her ankles over his shoulders. He gives her a small thumbs-up and ducks his head, bangs covering his eyes as he kisses at her inner thigh.

He runs a finger between her dripping folds, pressing up against her, clearing the way for him to lap at that little bundle of nerves.

She gasps. His head snaps up to look at her, gauge her reaction, but she pushes him back between her legs, panting, "Do that again."

After a startled second, he complies, tongue laving over her. Beneath his chin, a finger slips inside of her, rocking in and out, his motions slightly out of rhythm.

Elle digs her fingers into his scalp, hips shaking against his face, pubic hair brushing at his nose.

His breath is cool against her pelvis, but his mouth is hot, lips closing around her hardened clitoris and sucking, the tip of his tongue toying with her.

He wraps a hand around her thigh, all shallow breaths and eager movements. His finger slips from inside her. He pulls back for a moment, breathes deeply, and replaces it with his tongue. Though less skillful at pleasure than prattle, her eyes grow unfocused from his ministrations.

Her fingers clutch ever tighter at his hair, knuckles white, earning her soft whimpers into her skin. She lets out moans of her own, static drowning out her mind, the world shrinking to the sensation of skin on skin.

She cries out, orgasm shaking through her once more.

Her grip releases and Reid pulls back, panting. "Do you want a third?" he asks, endlessly polite.

She pushes at his chest with her foot, somewhere between a kick and a shove. "How can you eat me out and still act like a goody fucking two shoes? Swear or something, damn."

"Fuck."

She glares. "Wow," she deadpans.

"Would you like me to give you another orgasm?" Reid repeats.

"Two's good. Get out."

He pulls back. "Huh?"

"We're done. Get out of my hotel room."

"Oh," Reid says, dejected, and gets to his feet. He grabs his shirt and slips it back over his head, not bothering to tuck it in. "See you tomorrow, then."

She nods, picking up her own clothes, throwing them in her suitcase. "Don't expect this to be a regular thing."

"I know," he says, and he seems to mean it.

As he opens the door, heading back to his own room, she says, "Thanks, Reid." Unable to articulate the mangled remains of her psyche, she just adds, "You're not half bad in bed."

Reid smiles, half-hearted. "I try." And then he slips out the door. She locks the deadbolt behind him.

In his absence, the anger and the fear and the guilt sneak out of the shadows and swallow her whole.

**Author's Note:**

> elle please get therapy  
> also lieutenant you cannot stop me from liking elle, sorry


End file.
